


Cold Feet

by Pixel_Machine



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Also I wrote this early through my playthrough of Heavensward so please don't roast me too hard, F/M, Gen, Merrow has high INT but low WIS, Running Away, character backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26739406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixel_Machine/pseuds/Pixel_Machine
Summary: Merrow Chern loves someone else, and doesn't want to marry someone who isn't him. However, what other choice does she really have?
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Original Character(s), Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 7





	Cold Feet

Aymeric tried his best to ignore the dull thrumming ache in his heart as he adjusted his tie, and did his best to muster up a smile as he moved from in front of the old mirror down the hall towards his dear friend’s childhood bedroom. The bedroom that had been packed up into crates and boxes over the past few days, and was now being used as a staging ground for the preparations for the day’s events.

“Mistress Chern’s preparations are coming along nicely.” The maid said as Aymeric approached the familiar door, with its paint beginning to chip around the hinges, “Though it’s obvious she’s incredibly nervous. Would you be so kind as to speak to her, Master Aymeric?”

“Of course.” Aymeric replied with a nod, and watched the maid hurry down the hall and turn the corner before he turned and knocked on the door, “Merrow, may I come in?”

“That’s fine.” A soft voice called from the other side of the door. Even through the door and from across an entire room, Aymeric could hear plainly how his friend was distressed.

Aymeric opened the door and what he was greeted with made his heart immediately jump up into his throat and then immediately slam back down into his diaphragm, leaving him struggling to find air as well as words.

Merrow was everything an Ishgardian bride could hope to be. She was clad in a beautiful snowy white wedding gown, one that wasn’t sewn together by Merrow’s own hand or by one of the members of the Chern family but was one had been commissioned to be one of a kind from one of the best tailors in Ishgard and paid for by the groom’s family. The voluminous fabric pooled around where she sat in front of the dressing table, making it impossible to get too close, and Aymeric wondered if that had been her goal. On her head, covering her carefully curled and pinned up hair, she wore a veil of gold, which framed her face and made her look like she was a saint surrounded by a halo. Aymeric watched Merrow’s nervous fidgeting hands play with the delicate fabric, and he for a moment considered telling her not to do that out of fear of warping it before he realized it was probably the only action that was keeping her grounded.

Oh how he loved her, in this moment more than any other. She was at her best as well as her worst, and he loved both those sides of her.

“Merrow…” Aymeric eventually said, “By the Fury, you are quite the sight to behold.”

Aymeric watched the corners of Merrow’s lipstain darkened mouth twitch upwards before her nervous, sad expression returned, “What little good it does me, really.” She said, and sighed. Aymeric could tell she wanted to hide her face in her hands, but couldn’t because she was afraid of smudging her makeup, “The maid asked you to talk to me? Calm my nerves?”

Aymeric nodded, “Yes, though it was my intention to do that even before she asked.” He explained, and stepped closer. Merrow pulled her skirts closer to her, allowing Aymeric to kneel on the floor beside her chair. He for a moment was reminded of the stories of knights and ladies, though he quickly threw away those thoughts before they could distract him. Instead Aymeric smiled at Merrow, doing his best to appear comforting, “What causes you to be so distressed, my dear friend?”

Merrow closed her eyes, and her brows furrowed together sharply, “I’m scared, Aymeric.”

Aymeric sighed and held out a hand towards Merrow, palm up in invitation, and he curled his fingers around hers when she rested her much thinner and softer hand gently on his, “I know.”

He knew she’d been scared, terrified of this day since she’d first heard of her betrothal. It left Aymeric hating the man who’d agreed to marry his friend, even though he himself had yet to lay eyes on the man himself. He didn’t have to, he’d seen what this faceless man had done to his friend, and that was enough. Aymeric didn’t consider himself to be a man prone to anger or hate, but he would make an exception in this case.

“What am I supposed to do?” Merrow asked, “I don’t love him.”

Aymeric squeezed Merrow’s hand gently, “I wish I could give you an answer.” He said softly, “But I don’t know if there is one.”

Merrow sighed, “You’re right.” She whispered and hung her head.

Aymeric sighed back and listlessly ran his thumb over her knuckles, taking in the sight of the small little marks there from the times she’d poked herself with a needle or had cut her hand open on the edge of a tome’s pages. There’d been many attempts to buff away these marks, to make Merrow look as flawless as a brand new doll, so Aymeric really had to look to see these little imperfections, but it brought him relief when he did spot them. They reminded him that this woman sitting in front of him was still his dearest friend, still _ his _ Merrow.

He missed his friend, the one so full of life as she managed to convince him to climb up onto the roof of her family’s home so they could stargaze together, and the one who smiled up at the stars like they knew all of her secrets and she knew all of theirs.

Aymeric silently wished for this all to be a nightmare, one that he’d wake up from. He cursed fate for making it so that wasn’t the case, and for making it so that he was trapped watching this nightmare play out before him.

_ ‘If only I’d been better born,’ _ Aymeric thought,  _ ‘If only I weren’t so weak.’ _

“We’ll still be friends after all of this, right?” Merrow asked, breaking the sullen silence.

“Of course.” Aymeric said quickly as he smiled at his friend again, “I could not bear having you be absent from my life.”

Merrow smiled back at him, but Aymeric saw how the smile didn’t meet her eyes, and how sullen her eyes were, the bright little headstrong flame in them having been doused, “Thank you, Aymeric. You’re the greatest friend I could have asked for.” She said, and she threw her arms around Aymeric’s neck, hugging him tightly, “Oh, I want to cry, but this stupid makeup is too expensive to mess up. It’s so stupid.”

They shared a little laugh at that, but the weight of the situation still hung heavy over both of them.

“Do you think if I pray hard enough Halone will strike him down before we reach the cathedral?” Merrow asked, her voice muffled by how she’d rested her face into the collar of Aymeric’s suit jacket.

Another empty laugh left Aymeric, “I would say that there’s no harm in trying.” He said, and pulled out of the hug, “You are strong, Merrow, stronger than I, and smarter too. I’m certain you will find a way to make it through this.”

Merrow nodded, “I’ll try, Aymeric.” She said, and looked over Aymeric’s shoulder as maids came in with Merrow’s shoes, “Oh, by the Fury…heels?!”

\---

Merrow had to brace herself against Aymeric and Haurchefant as they made the slow trek through Ishgard towards the cathedral. Since Merrow had taken so long sabotaging her own preparations, her wedding party of her two closest friends was all that made up the procession towards the heart of the city-state. Even her family had decided to go on ahead.

“If I never look at a pair of heels again it’ll be too soon.” Merrow said with a soft sigh, adjusting her dress’s train on her arm so it didn’t drag on the dusty ground.

The trio shared a small laugh between them, though it was quickly smothered by the weight of finality on all their souls.

Merrow’s mind began to race as they turned the corner onto The Last Vigil, and her heart began to pound in her ears. If she walked into the cathedral, she felt as though she wouldn’t be walking out again, or at least she wouldn’t be herself anymore if she did.

“I-I need to sit.” Merrow stuttered, and wrenched herself over towards the front stoop of one of the stately homes of one of the high noble houses.

“Of course, t’would not be fortuitous for a bride to have a bout of syncope at the altar.” Haurchefant said as he helped Merrow take the last bit of the drop to the step as gracefully as possible. Though Merrow still winced, and cursed how her tailbone was certainly going to bruise.

“It also would not bode well for any of us if the bride were to miss her cue.” Aymeric replied, “If you require it, I can carry you.”

“No, no, please don’t do that.” Merrow said quickly, “Just…run ahead and tell them I’ll be a minute. Tell them I needed some fresh air.”

Aymeric looked skeptical for a moment, but after Merrow pleaded silently with him he was quick to cave and nod, “I’ll be waiting for you both there.”

They watched Aymeric take off towards the cathedral, and once out of earshot Haurchefant spoke up, “He has it quite bad, doesn’t he?”

“Has what?” Merrow asked, “Is Aymeric sick?”

“Sick with love.” Haurchefant mused, “‘Tis a terrible affliction to be struck with, nay incurable.”

Merrow blinked, and her face felt warm despite the cold of the autumn wind that ran through The Last Vigil, “Wait, he…” Merrow trailed off, “He never said anything!”

“When would he have been able to?” Haurchefant replied, “And what could have come of it if he admitted such a thing?”

Merrow was about to launch into a tirade when the words really sunk in. Haurchefant was right, despite Merrow hating to admit that. Nothing could have come of Aymeric confessing his feelings, that was simply fact. While the de Borel family was of a higher standing, Aymeric was still known to be a bastard, and their station was still lower than the one of the man she was set to marry. Her mother wanted her marriage to raise the family’s station and make their family's accounts flush with cash again, and the de Borels weren’t the best for that.

“I can’t do this.” Merrow whispered, and then she turned to look at her friend, “I need your help.”

Haurchefant helped Merrow stand to her feet. She was a bit more sure of her steps now, getting used to the heels slowly but surely, “Ready to stand upon the altar, my friend?”

Merrow quickly shook her head, “No. I’m not getting married today, Haurchefant.” She said, “I need you to help me get out of Ishgard.”

Haurchefant stood, eyes a bit wide, “Where does thou intend to run off to?”

“Well, first…” Merrow rested her weight against her friend as she checked her heels, “Ah-ha! Just as I thought!”

With a small snap, she broke off part of her heels.

“Extenders.” She grumbled, and repeated the motion before tossing the things into the nearby bushes for a poor confused gardener to find later, “There,  _ now _ I can run.”

And with that, the pair took off towards The Foundation.

“How do you plan on escaping in your current attire?”

“We’ll use your lovely voice to secure me a place in a caravan of traders.” Merrow replied, and yanked off her veil without breaking her stride, “I think this’ll pay for passage and then some.”

“And once that comes to pass?”

Merrow flailed her free hand about, “We both know I make my best plans on the fly! Just help me!”

“If that is what our fair lady requests of me…” He muttered as he scanned the area, “Ah-ha! How fortuitous!”

In what felt like hours to the nervous and frantic Merrow but in reality was only a few scant minutes, a deal was struck and Merrow was assisted in the act of climbing up into one of the traders’ covered wagons.

“I’ll repay you for this, Haurchefant, I swear.” Merrow said, and pulled her friend into a tight embrace, “And please, let Aymeric know for me.”

Haurchefant nodded, and smiled a sad smile at his friend, “I shall, Merrow, do not fret for a moment about it.” He said, and called out as the wagon began to pull away, “May thou have safe travels!”

Merrow waved and called out her goodbyes until Haurchefant was out of view. Once he was, she turned to look at the nearby trader, ignoring the heavy weight in her heart in favor of making conversation with her new travelling companion, “Where is this caravan bound for exactly?”

“Going to meet up with one of the Free Companies, ma’am!” The trader replied, “Been doing good business with them these days, quite the lively bunch! Maybe you could convince them to let ya join up?”

Merrow nodded, and decided that it was as good a journey as any other.

After a few moments the strangeness of the situation struck her, “I…I guess I should eventually find a change of clothes, huh?”

**Author's Note:**

> Aymeric and Merrow are my "Gonna write something stupidly domestic" and "Write something that involves way too much pining" pairing.  
> Combine childhood friends, pining, and courtship rituals all into one pairing? *Chef kiss* Perfection. Expect more of their shenanigans in the future.


End file.
